


much better than it used to be

by throughfire



Series: Buck and Eddie [12]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Bobby Nash is a Good Dad, Buck Dealing With His Past, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Two Minutes Of Fake Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughfire/pseuds/throughfire
Summary: They’ve just come back from a call when things take a turn for the worse. He’s jumped out of the truck and is about to look over his shoulder and continue his conversation with Eddie when Bobby calls out to him.“Evan!” he shouts. “I’d like a quick word with you in my office.”Buck freezes. Feels this sick, painful surge of dread in his chest that’s so forceful that it makes his mind go completely blank. He can feel his fingers trembling at his sides, his breathing shallow and insufficient and rough in his own ears.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Series: Buck and Eddie [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630543
Comments: 120
Kudos: 1098





	much better than it used to be

The music is loud, and the place is crowded with people. There’s a woman singing a Cher song over by the karaoke machine and it makes Buck feel like he’s been brought back to an awkward school dance with kids jacked up on sugar. To make things even worse, there’s a different woman standing across the room who Buck has been avoiding eye contact with for the better part of the past twenty minutes.

The woman is coming over now, following her unwavering gaze in Buck’s direction. Buck can see her from the corner of his eye and he grips his beer bottle tighter, feels his shoulders tense up with discomfort. Once she reaches her target she presses in close, brushing up against his knee and ducking in to catch Buck’s gaze.

“Hi, you,” she’s saying, all smile and melody in her tone, though it doesn’t feel pleasant when it lands on Buck’s skin – doesn’t make him want to smile back.

He twists his mouth into a grin anyway, nods slightly and says, “Hello.”

He’s not rude, not really. He just doesn’t want the attention – isn’t after what she so obviously is here for.

The song is still playing in the background; the singer’s voice a bit too shrill, a bit _too much_ in a way that makes the discomfort in Buck’s body feel even worse. He tries to be friendly, to aim an easy smile at the woman in front of him, make conversation for a bit and then let her know that he’s not interested, but she keeps leaning in closer, pressing herself against him and hovering over him on his stool.

His eyes go back to flicking back and forth across the room, searching for a way out until they catch on Eddie. The man is moving through the crowd, his posture calm and confident and his expression relaxed. There’s a hint of a smile there; his shoulders are wide and strong under his layered shirts, and all together he’s the most comforting sight Buck has ever seen.

Buck doesn’t even think – it’s his body’s default setting to react like this any time Eddie is close – he just straightens on his stool and shouts, “Eddie!”

Eddie looks over, a grin already growing upon his lips as their eyes meet across the distance. He moves closer, seemingly taking in the situation that Buck is caught in and assessing the vast amount of discomfort that must be coming off of Buck in waves. The grin turns into a frown; a mix of concern and annoyance.

“Buck,” he greets warmly, smiling once more. “Hey.”

He says it as though they didn’t arrive here together, as though they’ve been separated for far longer than the fifteen minutes that Eddie spent outside, calling Chris to say goodnight. It makes Buck’s shoulders lose some tension, makes him swivel his stool a quarter of a lap in order to face the incoming man.

As soon as Eddie is within arm’s reach, Buck finds himself curling a hand in the open side of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie goes with it quietly; lets himself be dragged in closer until his side is pressed up against the bar behind Buck and his front is tucked neatly against Buck’s arm. He’s carrying a slight chill from outside, but beneath that he radiates warmth. Safety. It’s a comfort for Buck to feel him, to know that Eddie’s touch is battling that of the woman who’s still hovering on Buck’s other side.

“Chris wanted me to tell you goodnight,” Eddie says. He’s taller than Buck this way, so Buck has to crane his neck a little to look at him. He’s quite happy to realize that he can inspect thick eyelashes, brown eyes and stubble from a new angle this way. “He thinks we should have our next night out _in_ with him so he can join us.”

“Kid makes a good point,” Buck nods, with warmth crowding his chest. “I like it.”

Eddie just smiles at him for a prolonged moment while the music comes to a grand finish in the background, then he shakes his head a little and turns it to the side, addressing the bartender with an easy nod and an order of a beer. He’s still so calm, not at all fazed by Buck’s predicament or by the hand that Buck still has curled in one of his shirts. He remains close while Buck turns; is a calming presence when Buck clears his throat and finally looks at the woman again.

“Anyway,” he gets out. “It was really nice to meet you. I hope you have a good night.”

She looks affronted. Throws an annoyed glance Eddie’s way and mutters, “Whatever.”

A moment later she’s gone, and Buck is left thinking that he perhaps should have made more of an effort. Been kinder. But she refused to read his signals – didn’t seem like she was interested in hearing anything other than _yes_ from him.

Eddie taps the back of his hand against Buck’s upper arm and asks, “You weren’t interested?”

Buck looks back up at him, shaking his head. “I’ve told you before, not my type anymore.”

Eddie considers him, but his expression gives nothing away. “You should have just told her that right away, then.”

“I did,” Buck insists. “At least I think I did, I – words are hard sometimes. Stringing them together when someone expects you to say something else, it’s—”

“Buck,” Eddie hums. “You don’t have to explain, man.”

At first Buck thinks that Eddie means that there’s no _reason_ to explain it, that it’s self-explanatory. There’s a look in Eddie’s eye, though, and the knowledge in the back of Buck’s head that Eddie reads him better than anyone else, and he realizes that what Eddie is really saying is that Buck doesn’t _have_ to unpack it. Eddie is giving him an out so that he won’t have to unravel himself.

Buck nods appreciatively, looks at his hand around the fabric and reluctantly forces his fingers to let go while his thoughts whirl messily in his mind.

Eddie doesn’t back away or leave despite his new freedom from Buck’s grip. He remains standing close to Buck’s side, calm as anything as the night progresses. The rest of their friends move around them; come and go in lapses of joyful conversation and karaoke-filled absences wherein Buck and Eddie just get to lean against each other and take it all in, cherish this mismatch of people that they call their family.

They both get more attention from strangers. Eddie somehow manages to deflect it with a slight shake of his head every time, but Buck doesn’t know that trick – doesn’t know how to free himself from life-long habits and a need to please, to make other people happy.

Another woman comes up to him halfway through the night. The determination in her eyes isn’t as feral as her predecessor’s was, but it’s still there and aimed at Buck, and it makes him tense up just the same.

He doesn’t want this. He wants to cut around the silhouette of himself and Eddie and send that image far away from here; let it be the two of them alone somewhere calm, somewhere where breathing is easier and where he can be in love with Eddie in peace without having an entire bar around him to remind him of who he no longer is, what he no longer desires.

Eddie must sense the shift in him somehow, because he angles his body slightly so that he’s stood halfway behind Buck’s back, his chest a warm, reassuring pressure against Buck’s shoulder blade and a comfort to lean into.

The woman reaches them a moment later, tilts her head a little and smiles around a hum of, “Hi. My name is Amanda.”

Buck clears his throat, gives her a slight nod in response and says, “I’m Buck, hi.”

He can feel Eddie shift slightly again, the pressure of his torso against Buck’s back a bit more pointed as his arm folds itself over Buck’s right shoulder in a half-embrace. He stretches his hand out in front of Buck’s face in a silent offer.

“I’m Eddie,” he supplies easily, a smile audible in his voice where it drifts over Buck’s head.

Buck watches the woman slip her hand into Eddie’s and shake it, her smile blinding. He feels a sudden and sharp spike of confusion beneath his breastbone as he watches the exchange unfold – wonders if Eddie is trying to distract the woman, if he’s planning to save Buck by throwing himself at her instead. It feels wrong on a multitude of levels. Makes something twist unpleasantly in his stomach, because he doesn’t want to see this. Doesn’t want to be here for it. He’d rather stumble his way through another awkward conversation than watch Eddie’s hand in hers for another second.

“Oh,” Amanda is saying, now, allowing her gaze to flick between them with that smile still in place, bright and kind. “You’re—”

“In the middle of a conversation, yeah,” Eddie hums, finally letting his hand drop. It falls straight down and lands softly over Buck’s sternum, his entire forearm draped across Buck’s chest. “He’s just too polite to say so. Would you mind coming back in a minute?”

“Of _course_ ,” she proclaims, gesturing awkwardly with her hands. “I never think before I act, I’m sorry!”

She leaves as quickly as she came, and Buck finds himself smiling after her, with elation blossoming under the weight of Eddie’s hand.

He tilts his head back against Eddie’s chest, looks at him from beneath eyelashes, but can’t find his voice. He doesn’t think he’d trust himself to speak even if he had any words ready upon his tongue.

“Enough people have asked me if we’re a couple when we’ve been out on calls,” Eddie shrugs. “I figured there must be something to act upon there. Just tell me to fuck off if it bothers you.”

Buck swallows. He thinks he can taste his heart, there, lurking at the back of his throat, and his words come out intent, low and full of emotion when he says, “Thank you.”

Eddie nods in response, taking a swig of his beer with his other arm still casually draped over Buck’s shoulder. His warmth is so easy to lean back into, his body a safe harbor that doesn’t falter in the slightest when Buck presses back against it.

Eddie just tightens his arm, taps a finger against Buck’s breastbone, and asks, “Is Chim really about to go up there and sing Spice Girls right now?”

It makes Buck laugh, unexpected and entirely consuming. “God, I hope so.”

*

They end up walking aimlessly from the bar, stopping at a random corner of a street and wasting time there while Eddie calls for an uber. It’s way past midnight and the entire city feels uncharacteristically quiet somehow – the noises of passing cars and drunken conversations sounding distant as though the darkness is blurring them out.

Buck’s mind is louder; the words not spoken earlier swirling around in there clumsily and fighting each other for the chance to land upon his tongue. He didn’t have a lot to drink tonight, but piecing all of those thoughts together into some kind of order is still hard – the weight of them _that_ substantial. He wants to say it, though. Wants Eddie to know.

He can feel his own brow furrow, and the inside of his cheek is getting sensitive under the abuse of his teeth as he frantically tries to figure this out, tries to find a way to explain something that he’s never really talked about before.

Then Eddie’s hand is at his elbow; the touch a blast of serenity that settles Buck’s entire body. He tears his gaze away from the ground to look at Eddie, and breathes in at the sight of him.

Eddie has evidently ordered them that uber and shoved his phone back in his pocket at this point, because he’s looking back at Buck with a concerned expression, his eyes kind and slightly amused as though he is unsure whether Buck is just drunk or if there’s more going on beneath the distracted surface. He’s always searching Buck’s face, always trying to read him and subsequently caring about what he sees. How can Buck not tell him? Who else would Buck ever feel comfortable enough to talk to about this?

“It’s hard to disappoint people. To say no. To… to not give them what they so obviously want from me,” he starts off tentatively, leaning back against the building behind them for support. It’s cold and unforgiving; nothing like Eddie’s chest was back at the bar.

Eddie makes a noise; a confirmation that he’s listening and a soft encouragement for Buck to continue. He has turned to face Buck, his arm pressed against the wall a mere couple of inches away from Buck’s shoulder. It feels a bit like he’s shielding them from the rest of the street, fencing this conversation in so that it’s just for them.

“I tried so hard when I was a kid, you know, to get my parents’ attention. To make my dad proud of me,” Buck goes on, stealing a bit of kindness from Eddie’s expression to fuel his heart with before he looks away and addresses the ground. “He wanted a son like himself. Someone driven and strong. Someone goal-oriented and logical. And I really did try to be that for him, but it’s not – I couldn’t stop _feeling_. I still can’t. I still feel things in all the wrong situations, pack emotion into the wrong places where they’ll just… eat me up, because I never learned how to talk about them. My parents never wanted to hear it.”

Silence settles between them for a while; allows those words to sink in and blossom into a meaning, an emotion rooted somewhere between them. The rest of the world still sounds so distant, still seems so foreign, as though they actually have been cut out and placed somewhere else, now. Somewhere desolate.

“Buck,” Eddie says softly, then. “You _are_ strong. After Chris, you’re the strongest person I know.”

“ _No one_ is stronger than Chris,” Buck smiles, meaning it with his entire heart, his entire soul.

“No one!” Eddie grins, and he’s so fucking _pretty_. The moon is shining down on him, tangling in his eyelashes, and orange orbs of city light are casting a golden glow upon him that makes him seem ethereal where he stands, addressing Buck with a gaze that’s so warm that it almost makes Buck go breathless.

“You have this way of seeing the bigger picture _and_ the smaller details,” Eddie hums contemplatively, tilting his head and smiling. “You’re the most determined asshole I know – you don’t let anything stop you when you know that you can do something, and when you don’t know _how_ to solve something you crash into it anyway, common sense be damned, because you want to help.”

A laugh slips out of Buck’s mouth at that, wet and unexpected, and Eddie grins happily back at him, wrapping caring fingertips around the inside of Buck’s elbow.

“It’s because you care, Buck. You wouldn’t be half the man that you are today if you cut emotion out of the things you do – you’d just be a robot,” Eddie tells him, his voice full of emotion. “I’m proud of you. I know it’s not what you need to hear, not from me, but I want you to know it anyway. The fact that you tell people no sometimes – that you put yourself first every once in a while – doesn’t change that. It just makes you more human.”

Buck’s eyes are burning at this point; his sight growing blurry to complement the ambivalent emotion that laced his laughter a moment ago. Everything’s a bit of a haze.

“Christ,” he breathes out. “You really know how to make a guy feel special, Eddie.”

He feels lighter, somehow, as though he’d drift away down the street if it weren’t for Eddie’s anchoring hand around his arm, and he finds it odd. Thinks it’s strange, because Eddie’s words are so full of meaning, so weighed by affection that Buck should feel tethered to the spot.

Eddie laughs at his comment, closes his eyes and turns so that his back is resting against the wall just like Buck’s is. He tips his head back against the rough surface, there, and grins up at the moon. He’s the kind of person who knows when to diffuse tension, and he proves it when he says; “Got to treat my boyfriend right, don’t I?”

And suddenly everything hurts a little, beneath all that lightness. There’s this dull, distant throbbing that Buck knows that he needs to learn how to live with because now he has this bit of undeniable proof of what Eddie would be like as a boyfriend. He’s had a brief taste of what it would be like to be Eddie’s, to be a vital part of his life, to be loved and treasured by him so highly.

Yet, hovering in that overlying lightness is the realization that the joke – the relationship that they faked for a few hours – doesn’t make the rest of it untrue. Eddie does love him, just not like _that_. Eddie cares about him; wants him to be happy; is prepared to do anything for him in order to make it happen. And Eddie is _proud_ of Buck, of the person that he is.

“You’re staying at mine tonight, right?” he asks, eyeing the car that’s slowing down at the curb.

Eddie keeps smiling at the sky for a moment, his fingers still caught in the folds of Buck’s shirt, on the inside of that elbow. Then he says, “Of course I am.”

*

The conversation lingers in Buck’s mind for next couple of days. He feels like his entire childhood and teenage years have been uprooted and strewn in odd places of his consciousness, and it makes his days rougher. Makes flashes of past trials and errors flare up in his thoughts and darken the brightest of situations, because despite the reassurance that Eddie gave him the other night, he still hasn’t made peace with his past. He still struggles with his own worth, with his own choices, with his own need to please the people that he meets as though it’ll make up for his deficiencies.

They’ve just come back from a call when things take a turn for the worse. He’s jumped out of the truck and is about to look over his shoulder and continue his conversation with Eddie when Bobby calls out to him.

“Evan!” he shouts. “I’d like a quick word with you in my office.”

Buck freezes. Feels this sick, painful surge of dread in his chest that’s so forceful that it makes his mind go completely blank. He can feel his fingers trembling at his sides, his breathing shallow and insufficient and _rough_ in his own ears.

Eddie has joined him on the floor, now, standing in front of Buck with concern lining his entire face, and one of his hands is visibly twitching as though he’s forcing it not to reach out for Buck.

Buck must look as stricken as he feels, must radiate some kind of anxiety, though as a faint comfort it seems as though Eddie is the only one who’s paying attention to him, the only one noticing that something is off.

He can see that Eddie’s mouth is moving, can tell that his lips are spelling out a word that undoubtedly is _Buck_ , but he doesn’t hear it. He just swallows thickly, closes his eyes, shakes his head and curls his hands into tight fists to stop the trembling, to screen out the emotional impact that the mere mention of his name has had on him.

Turning on the spot, he follows Bobby into the office. His movements feel forced, his entire body tense as he forces it into motion. There’s a stiffness to his shoulders, to his spine; a strain to every muscle in his torso as he makes sure to carry himself a little better, to straighten his posture further.

Inside the office, Bobby pauses behind the desk, halting himself before he takes a seat to look at Buck. Buck can sense his gaze on him, can tell that Bobby is staring at him, inspecting him, but he struggles to meet Bobby’s eyes. Keeps his own firmly aimed at the desk between them until Bobby speaks up, makes him twitch involuntarily.

“You can sit down.”

He lowers himself down onto the chair behind him, pressing his hands into his lap. His fingers are still trembling, so he twines them together painfully, and then he steels himself for the oncoming lecture. The awaiting speech about how he needs to do better, _be_ better, be _different_. The notion that Evan Buckley was raised better than this.

“Buck?”

The nickname cuts through the anxiety; makes it recede a fraction. Just enough for him to snap his head up and look at Bobby across the desk. He blinks at the sight of his Captain, swallows and tries to ground himself in the present.

“Sorry, Cap,” he says, with shame burning all the way from the back of his neck to his cheeks. “Would you mind repeating that?”

Bobby frowns at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You weren’t hurt out there – didn’t get a concussion or anything?”

“I’m fine, sir.”

“ _Buck_.”

He snaps his gaze up again, feeling mortified.

Bobby is looking back at him with a kind, albeit concerned, expression. His head tilted in consideration as though he’s trying to figure out what’s going on.

 _This is_ _Bobby_ , Buck reminds himself. He’s not Buck’s dad. They’re at the station right now, this is not the Buckley household twelve years ago. Buck hammers these realizations into the forefront of his mind, takes a deep breath and tries desperately to settle more comfortably into his chair, to lose some of the tension in his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he says, forcing himself to keep eye contact. “I’m listening, Cap, go on.”

Bobby still looks dubious, but after another moment of consideration he nods once and leans forward over the desk, saying, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m pleased with the way you acted out there today.”

It’s not at all what Buck expected to hear – the opposite of the disappointment-riddled monologue that he has spent the past few minutes mentally preparing himself for. He’s been so wrapped up in the memories of a past life full of inadequacy that Bobby’s words hit him hard in the lungs now; make his next inhale feel sharp and uncomfortable.

“You’ve taken huge steps forward over the past year alone, Buck. That self-assured and almost cocky outlook that the new kid had when he joined the team has turned into a genuine and entitled confidence in what you do, in what you know that you can bring to every possible situation,” Bobby goes on, sincerity in his voice. “I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished – of the man that you’ve worked so hard to become.”

Buck’s eyes have filled with water with a speed that goes unparalleled by his fingers; no time to wipe them away before they’re tumbling messily over his lash lines and spelling out his inner chaos upon his cheeks where Bobby can see it.

 _Pride_.

When Eddie spoke of it the other night, it made Buck feel like he grew three sizes. The sentiment was buried somewhere in his very core, then, where it blossomed in big petals of happiness, of confidence, because Eddie’s appreciation for the things that Buck does means that much to him. He carries Eddie’s pride proudly.

Now that it’s coming from Bobby, though, it bites into him differently. Nestles its way in beneath layers of skin until it traps all of his organs under this _haze_ of emotion that leaves his whole body in danger of collapsing, and the tears just keep coming. They’re bits of emotion falling heavily and landing in wet, stark drops upon his pants where he can’t ignore them, can’t deny them.

The shame is still there, burning in his cheeks at this awkward display of emotion, this utter breakdown in front of someone who he should be proving himself stable and strong in front of. He’s still wearing his goddamn uniform, for fuck’s sake, and it feels like a disgrace.

After a moment spent in utter silence, wherein Buck has pressed rough palms against his eyes in a failed attempt to brush the entire situation out of both of their memories, Bobby asks, “What’s going through your mind right now, Buck?”

Buck bites at the inside of his lip, suddenly back in that headspace that he was in the other night and frantically trying to sort his thoughts out, to word them in a way that will make sense for someone else.

“My dad never told me that. That he was proud of me – of anything I did,” he manages to say. “He wouldn’t say it now, either, if he saw me. He’d think I was being too emotional and call it a liability, say that I need to be more disciplined if I want to succeed in this line of work.”

He huffs out a sad chuckle, shaking his head as he adds, “At this point I don’t even know how I’d react even if he _did_ say it to me for some reason – if it could ever feel as good as it did now, when you said it. You’ve felt more like a dad to me over these past few years than he ever did.”

Bobby’s smile is small and careful. Private. He’s leaning back in his chair, now, radiating comfort.

“Oh, the reckless impulses that your heart makes you act on can be _hell_ to deal with, don’t get me wrong,” he says through a grin. “But dealing with a Buck who continuously suppressed his own emotions, now _that_ would be a liability. This… this rich inner emotional life that you’ve got, it’s one of your strengths when you’re working, the same way it’s one of your best traits outside of the station.”

Buck assesses him for a moment. Takes in the serenity of those words. He can feel himself smiling when he recalls; “Eddie said something along those lines, too.”

“Eddie was right,” Bobby says. “And I think it’s safe to say that he knows you better than all of us, so he really should know.”

It’s true. Eddie is his best friend, and while Maddie used to be the person that he confided in most in the past, things have shifted over the past couple of years. Maddie has settled into this city, has gotten to start over and relearn what makes her happy – has found a person that she dares to give pieces of herself to because she knows that he’ll always give her something back in return. And Buck met Eddie. Met this man who can be infuriatingly quiet and closed off, yet who still listens so readily to anything that Buck has on his mind and eases that pressure with a kind smile and a warm touch.

“It’s been so strange,” he hears himself ponder aloud, then. “Being around Eddie. I mean, Eddie’s dad wasn’t there much when he was a kid, but he still turned out great. He figured things out, he works hard to get things right and Christopher has turned into the most amazing boy because of it. And having you to look up to here – getting to watch the way you treat everyone on the team, everyone you meet, it’s—”

He stops. Takes a breath and tries to come to some sort of conclusion.

“I didn’t realize that parenthood could be like that. Not until I saw it up close – until I got to be on the sidelines of it,” he says. “You guys embody those safe harbors that all dads should be, and sometimes I wonder what I would be like if I’d had that when I grew up, too.”

“Does it really matter?” Bobby questions. “You may think that you’re on the sidelines, Buck, but you’re not. You’re right there on the field with us. You’re a role model to Chris, you’re a partner and a source of comfort for Eddie to lean against and depend on. You’re a vital part of this team, and you’re one hell of an amazing kid. Don’t ever let your dad’s warped ideas of righteousness and pride cloud your judgement and make you miss out on how good of a man you’ve become in his absence. Don’t let him take that away from you.”

Buck’s next exhale is shaky, and his eyes are burning with the threat of new tears, but the lightness from the other night is back and his heart feels confident where it beats inside his chest.

“Thanks, Cap,” he says quietly, his voice full of emotion. He lets a moment pass; lets Bobby’s words sink in even deeper, then adds, “I think I’m proud of me, too.”

*

He’s still emotional when he walks out of the office, still feels a bit off kilter after the emotional turmoil, but the lightness carries him over to the locker room. Eddie is the only one left in there, changed out of his uniform but still wearing that worried expression on his face where he’s sat on the bench.

Buck gravitates towards him. He sits down beside Eddie, close enough that they’re pressed against each other from knee to shoulder, and he steals every sense of comfort and safety that he can get from the other man while he balances out again, settles in his own mind with all these new thoughts and feelings.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, leaning heavily against Buck.

Buck looks over at him. Smiles and nods, because he _is_ okay here, with this team, with these people. And it doesn’t matter that he wants too much sometimes; that he acts on emotion and is so full of it that he can’t stop himself from being in love with his best friend. He can live with it, with the underlying pain of that longing, as long as Eddie doesn’t mind him stealing touches like this, daydreaming in the safe vicinity of him.

He lowers his gaze after a moment, aiming it at his own hands in his lap. “I miss my name.”

“Evan?”

“See, it sounds nice when you say it,” Buck murmurs through a wistful smile. When he glances sideways again, he can feel fresh tears in his own eyes, and he knows that Eddie definitely sees them, too, but Eddie’s expression remains soft. He doesn’t back away from emotion, either; is learning, the same way Buck is, that emotion isn’t a weakness.

“The only one who’s ever said it consistently before was my dad, and whenever he did it was always followed by words laced with disappointment,” Buck explains. “ _Buck_ as a nickname has always been there because of my last name – it’s what I went by all through school. Even Maddie started using it at some point – I think she hated the way dad said the name Evan as much as I did, hated the associations.”

Eddie is still there. Warm and secure, full of care and attentiveness as he gives a soft, encouraging hum.

“When I got here, Buck got a whole new meaning. Suddenly it wasn’t just a nickname anymore, ‘cause it felt like a whole new identity for me to put on along with the uniform,” he goes on, fueled by the warmth in Eddie’s gaze, the way it shines brightly even through the blurriness in his own. “No one ever tells Buck to be different. Buck doesn’t disappoint people; he saves them. It felt good to be him.”

“He’s you, though.”

“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” Buck shrugs. “I want my name back. I want it to be my own again, to be a part of me. This version of me.”

“Evan,” Eddie says softly, as though he’s tasting it upon his own tongue.

It sounds like an _I love you_. Buck wants to lick it out of Eddie’s mouth and swallow it whole so that maybe that affection will root itself in the bottom of his stomach; turn into an encompassing feeling of contentment and become a new identity based off of past experiences and current growth that can take him into a future where names and uniforms don’t seem so vital anymore – where it’s _him_ that matters.

“I like it,” Eddie hums, moving his arm from his own thigh and touching a gentle fingertip to the back of Buck’s hand in a silent inquiry. “Want me to use it?”

“Maybe sometimes,” Buck ponders, turning his hand and easing it into Eddie’s waiting one. “Not when you think I’m being an idiot, though.”

“Oh, so never, then?”

Buck elbows him gently, holds his hand a bit tighter and watches the way their palms press together; cherishes how seamlessly they fit and how right it feels. Says, absently, “You think you’re so damn funny.”

Eddie hums happily. “You think so, too, really.”

Buck just makes a noncommittal noise in response. Lets a moment pass them by quietly as he thinks, trying to put his thoughts in order much like he did earlier, much like he did the other night. Somehow it’s less anxious this time, though. It feels like the most natural thing he could possibly do right now, because this is Eddie, and it’s him, and his emotions are welcome here. They’ll always be welcome, even if they’re not reciprocated.

“No,” he settles on quietly, looking up at Eddie again because he can be brave about this. “What I _think_ is that I love you. All the time. And I think I’d prefer to say it out loud, as often as you’d let me.”

Eddie doesn’t look surprised; not even his fingertips twitch in reaction against the back of Buck’s hand. He simply raises a curious eyebrow over a kind gaze, smiles softly and asks, “You think I’d ever stop you?”

Buck frowns. “At some point. It’ll probably get repetitive – I love you _a lot.”_

It makes Eddie laugh, loud and melodic and lovely. All of him is so bright, so beautiful, and it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love Buck back like that, not as long as he keeps giving Buck these fond looks, these warm moments.

Eddie keeps smiling at him, all bright-eyed and joyful, squeezing Buck’s hand as he says, “I love you, too.”

It sounds a lot like coming home. Like realizing that he’s been so lost in his own mind that he’s missed out on the fact that he’s been stood upon his own doorstep this whole time; that someone’s been standing on the inside, waiting for him to come in.

“You do,” he realizes aloud, allowing his heart to take that in and swell with it. “You _do_. It’s – we’re not just pretending.”

Eddie laughs again; looks like he’s glowing from the inside when he says, “Not anymore.”


End file.
